


hot chocolate

by owlinaminor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kagehina Exchange 2015, M/M, Shenanigans, background daisuga if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 19:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5510300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was only gone for a week!” Kageyama exclaims.</p>
<p>“Weeks!” Shoyou corrects him.</p>
<p>“One week!  Singular!”</p>
<p>“Months!  Years!”</p>
<p>“What the fuck, dumbass, don’t you know what time is?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	hot chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> hey, kagehina exchange person #120! I'm really sorry this is late, but I hope you like it anyway! you requested fluff and hot chocolate, and I attempted to deliver. (the rest of karasuno just kind-of ... got in the way.)
> 
> enjoy these gay nerds being gay.
> 
> (and thanks to [becky](http://dicaeopolis.tumblr.com/) for editing!)

 

Shoyou is almost late.

He pedals down the road as quickly as he can manage without swerving into patches of ice, legs pumping so fast he’s almost afraid his wheels will fall off.  The streets pass in a grayish blur, houses and sidewalks and people all frozen in place.  A light dusting of snow covers the ground and lends the air a magical quality - Shoyou feels as though he’s pedalled straight into an old folk tale.  If he wasn’t almost late, he’d stop for a minute and marvel at the landscape - it’s his favorite time of year, the very beginning of winter, cold enough for snow and icicles and feeling like a dragon when he exhales, but not so cold that it sinks into his bones and makes running hard.

But all thoughts of cold and winter are pushed out of Shoyou’s brain when he reaches the school and sees the person standing in front of the gym.  Kageyama’s slouching, with his hands in his pockets, and his face hidden beneath a dark blue knitted hat.  He kicks at the snow, as though it’s personally insulted his jump-serves or something.  He’s bundled up in at least two jackets and scarves, and the black of his jacket makes him stand out from the white landscape, a boat amidst a vast sea.

Shoyou jumps off his bike and runs.  The bike clatters to the ground behind him.

Kageyama doesn’t take kindly to being attacked from the back - he usually glares, or shouts, or a terrifying combination of the two.  He’s prone to swatting away any physical contact he didn’t initiate himself, sending back any volleyballs that hit him with double the force.

And yet today, when Shoyou crashes into his back like a runaway sack of flour, Kageyama isn’t mad.  Sure, he shouts, something along the lines of “What the hell, dumbass!” or “Where did you come from!” or “Give people some warning before you knock them over!” or “What am I, a fucking bowling pin!” - but he isn’t mad.  Shoyou can tell. 

After a few moments of standing there, crushed against Kageyama’s back, soaking in his warmth - Kageyama is always warm, maybe because of all those extra jackets he wears - Shoyou releases his boyfriend.  He marches around to Kageyama’s front, reaches up, and pushes Kageyama’s hat out of his eyes.

“You’ve been gone for so long!” Shoyou says, accusing.

Kageyama glares, but there’s no real heat to it.  “It’s not my fault I got sick.”

“Is too!”  Shoyou puts his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed in a not-particularly-successful imitation of his mother when she scolds him for watching volleyball instead of doing his homework  _ again. _  “And it’s your fault you were out for so long!”

“I was only gone for a week!” Kageyama exclaims.

“Weeks!” Shoyou corrects him.

“One week!  Singular!”

“Months!  Years!”

“What the fuck, dumbass, don’t you know what time is?”

“Years!  Centuries!  Milleniums!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not even a real unit of time!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

Both boys stare at each other - Kageyama glares down, Shoyou glares up.  They could probably continue this argument for hours - have continued other, more trivial arguments for longer - but something stops them.  Maybe it’s the cold air, or the fresh snow, or some new chemical got put into the water this morning - whatever it is, the two boys fall silent.  They stop, they breathe, they start over -

And then one of them moves, or both of them do, and Shoyou is hugging Kageyama again - only from the front this time.

Shoyou doesn’t need to hear Kageyama say  _ I missed you _ \- he can feel it, in the tightness of his arms as he pulls Shoyou to his chest, in the softness of his face as he pushes it into Shoyou’s shoulder, in the tiny upward curve of his lips as he pulls back to look at Shoyou.

And Shoyou doesn’t need to say  _ I missed you, too _ \- he’s sure Kageyama can hear it.

He looks at Kageyama for a second - cheeks red from the cold, smile quiet and not at all scary, eyes shining - and steps closer, reaches up, tastes the slope of his grin.  They’re still not great at this, they still knock teeth and tangle tongues and can’t quite find the right angle without minutes of trial and error, but they’re getting better.  They’re getting better every time they try it, like their new quick, or their signals, or their awkward, fumbling relationship.  And it’s good, Shoyou thinks, closing his eyes and twisting his arms up around Kageyama’s neck.  It’s good.

“Hey, lovebirds!”

Something cold and wet hits Shoyou square in the middle of his back.

He turns, red-faced and spluttering, to face Tanaka and Nishinoya, both of them holding up several freshly-packaged snowballs.  As Shoyou watches, Nishinoya pelts one of them directly at him - Shoyou ducks, and it hits Kageyama in the face with a  _ smack. _

Shoyou watches, his mouth hanging open, as the snow falls off Kageyama’s face.  It seems to happen almost in slow motion - first a few flakes fall off, then more and more, until all that remains is a layer of white across Kageyama’s eyebrows.  Kageyama’s sporting one of his most dangerous glares, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s got the eyebrows of an old man - he looks like he’s about to scold Tanaka and Noya, like,  _ get these kids off my lawn _ or something.

Shoyou can’t help it - he starts to laugh.

“Hey!” Kageyama shouts.  “It’s not funny!”

“It’s pretty funny, Kageyama-kun,” Nishinoya says.  He and Tanaka start giggling, too, then laughing outright - big, open-mouthed laughs that have them keeling over, dropping their hoards of snowballs.  Shoyou sees that as the perfect opportunity.

Shoyou dashes in, grabs the snowballs, and dashes back out, quick as one of Ushiwaka’s spikes.  Once he’s at a safe distance from the second-years, he starts launching his newly acquired stash at them, howling an indecipherable battle cry.

Most of the snowballs miss their targets, but one of them hits Nishinoya in the stomach.  He turns to his assailant, wide-eyed and glowering.  “Shoyou!” he exclaims.  “I thought you were on our side!”

Shoyou just grins.  He takes another few steps back and starts gathering up more snow, packing it into misshapen clumps.

“Well, that’s it, then,” Tanaka says. His face contorts into his  _ fight me, city boy _ expression - it’s a little terrifying to have that directed at him, Shoyou thinks, but he’s more excited than scared, really.  “Prepare for  _ war. _ ”

“Kageyama!” Shoyou yelps, gesturing wildly.  “Over here!”

Kageyama looks at Shoyou, jumping up and down in the field, then at Tanaka and Noya, preparing a new arsenal.  He smiles - the smile Shoyou used to find creepy, but now knows just means that battle is at hand - and starts approaching Shoyou.

Shoyou cheers.  “Yes!  We’re gonna win!"

“Don’t get so cocky!” Tanaka retorts.

And the battle starts in earnest.

A few minutes after the first snowballs are thrown, Ennoshita and Yamaguchi show up, followed by Kinoshita and Narita, and finally a grumbling Tsukishima.  The game quickly becomes first-years versus second-years, with defined boundaries, forts, and shields fashioned out of coats and notebooks.  The second-years have the advantage in terms of both numbers and ammunition (especially because Tsukishima tries so little, he barely counts as half of a player), but Kageyama and Shoyou prove to be as unstoppable with snowballs as they are with volleyballs.  They even work out a kind of quick, with Kageyama tossing volleyballs to Shoyou and Shoyou spiking them into the other team’s faces.

Everything’s going great - for the first-years, at least (the second-years are soaked and quickly freezing) - when one of Shoyou’s spikes accidentally hits Asahi in the face with a loud  _ splat. _

Asahi goes white.  Everyone else freezes.

“Asahi-senpaaaaai!” Shoyou shouts.  He sprints over to the ace then skids to a stop a meter or so in front of him, unsure if wrath is forthcoming.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, I swear!”

“It was just a game, Asahi-san!” Nishinoya adds, running up next to Shoyou.

Tsukishima snickers.  “He’s a big guy, he can handle it.”

“Handle what?” another, distinctly scarier voice asks.

The entire team turns as one to face their doom.  Or to face their captain - it’s the same thing, really.  Luckily for them, Daichi doesn’t look quite as terrifying as he could.  (Tanaka and Nishinoya once made up a scale of Daichi Moods, from we-just-won-a-match to ready-to-kick-everyone-except-Suga-off-the-team.  This is somewhere in the middle, near exasperated-but-he-loves-his-kids-anyway.)

“We were having a snowball fight,” Shoyou explains.  “But I, um, accidentally hit Asahi-san by mistake - and I’m really sorry -”

“It’s fine, Hinata,” Asahi interrupts him.  “I’ll be okay.”

Sugawara, standing next to Daichi with a slight smile on his face, shakes his head.  “Still, that can’t be good for your fragile glass heart.  Here, hold on a second -”  Suga takes off his backpack and rummages through it for a second, then pulls out a bright pink thermos.  He offers it to Asahi.  “There’s hot chocolate in here.  I just made it before coming to practice.”

Asahi refuses, making vague  _ oh, I couldn’t possibly _ noises, but Suga presses the thermos into his hands.  “Couldn’t have our ace getting hypothermia, now, could we?” he chides.  Asahi accepts it, knowing he’s been defeated, and starts meekly sipping its contents.

“Hey, wait, why are you guys so late to practice, anyway?” Tanaka asks, eying Suga and Daichi suspiciously.

“No reason,” Suga says breezily.  “No reason at all.”

“Really?  You guys are usually the first ones here, after those two idiots,” Ennoshita says, pointing at Kageyama and Shoyou.

“Don’t - don’t worry about it,” Daichi replies.  He pointedly looks at the ground - Shoyou doesn’t know why, but he does know that the momentary distraction is a great opportunity.

Shoyou dashes in, steals the thermos right out of Asahi’s hands, and  _ sprints. _  He’s faster than a speeding train - faster than a lightning strike - faster than Natsu when she hears they have ice cream for dessert.

“Hey!” Sugawara protests.  “That was my hot chocolate!  That I made!  For me!”

“Thanks, Suga-senpai, you’re the best!” Shoyou shouts back.

“Hey, dumbass!  Can I try it?” Kageyama calls ahead from where he’s sprinting after Shoyou.  And then, to Suga over his shoulder, he adds, “I got hit in the face with a snowball too, you know!”

Suga sighs.  “Alright, fine.  I guess my hot chocolate is the team’s hot chocolate now.”

“I’ll make you some hot chocolate later,” Daichi tells Suga.

“Please don’t,” Suga replies.  “You’ll burn it.”

The rest of the team lets out scandalized  _ oooh _ s at their vice-captain’s comment, but Shoyou and Kageyama aren’t paying attention any more.  They race to the gym entrance and slump against the door, passing the thermos between themselves.  It really is good - Suga-san must be some kind of hot chocolate-making genius.  Shoyou wonders, vaguely, if the third-year would teach him his secrets.

Somehow, in the process of hot chocolate sharing, Shoyou ends up pressed against Kageyama’s side, Kageyama’s arm encircling his waist, Kageyama’s strong setter fingers linked around his wrist.  They’d probably be better off inside the gym, where they could take advantage of the luxury of  _ actual heating _ , but Shoyou can’t bring himself to care too much.  He looks at Kageyama - pink cheeks, hair wet from the snow, gulping down hot chocolate as though it’s the first water he’s gotten after a long day of practicing - and is suddenly bowled over by a wave of affection for this ridiculous, amazing person he gets to call his boyfriend.  (His  _ boyfriend _ .  It’s been weeks since their awkward confessions, and Shoyou still isn’t quite over that.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” Shoyou says - simply, easily, as instinctual as breathing.

When Shoyou looks up, Kageyama’s face is as red as the labels on those cartons of strawberry milk he likes to drink.  He ducks his head quickly, but Shoyou can still see the grin on his face - the same one he gets after they manage their quick in a match.  It’s Shoyou’s favorite grin - happy and bright and warm.  Like Suga-san’s hot chocolate.

“Y-yeah,” Kageyama says.  And his fingers squeeze Shoyou’s wrist tighter.


End file.
